"What?" Lexi asked, sounding stunned, as she sat across from a man in a nice suit behind a desk. He smiled, leaned back and nodded.
"Yeah," he said, "It's true. He sang like a canary, thusly fingering his business partner as the brains behind the operation and including the proof necessary to back it up. Trails of receipts, ledgers, you name it. Handed it all over. Because of this, they're going more lenient on him, unfreezing his funds, while still giving him a sentence, albeit a much shorter one than before." "...oh my god," Lexi said, "...so...what does this mean for me?" The lawyer smiled, happy to give her the best news she'd get all day. *** Keagan and Michelle were sitting outside the studio, eating lunch at a small picnic table in an area that the network had provided for its employees. They'd both ordered something out of a nearby food truck and were scarfing it down, each hungry as a wolf from working all day. Neither one spoke, as there wasn't a single moment neither one wasn't chewing. Finally after a bit, Keagan put her fork down and exhaled longingly, blinking a few times. "I need to eat more often than one meal a day," she said, just as Eliza saddled down beside Michelle with her own lunch. "You're not eating in The Hole today?" Michelle asked as Eliza shook her head, digging into her bag and pulling out small separate containers of food. "Wow, so organized," Keagan said, playing with her dreads absentmindedly as Eliza smiled and started to eat; Keagan looked back to Michelle and said, "so, how's Bea? I mean, after that incident I wouldn't be surprised if she was having a rather hard time readjusting." "She's...struggling, yeah, it's kinda messed her up," Michelle said, "But she'll be okay. She and Liam are working hard to make sure nothing like that ever happens again. They're even bringing in a psychologist for anyone on the crew who might wanna get things off their chest." "That's very new agey of them," Keagan said, just as a car horn honked brightly and the girls all looked to the right at the parking lot to see Lexi pull up in a nice little sports car. She got out, looking as perfect as always, and strolled up to the picnic table, seating herself beside Keagan and kissing her on the cheek. "Where'd that come from? Did you a rob a dealership?" Michelle asked. "It's my fathers," Lexi said, "I get everything he had. He turned states evidence on his business partner, and as a result, he'll get a shortened sentence and he transferred ownership of everything to me. All his money, all his stocks, his car, everything. It's all mine now. At least until he gets out of jail, but that's gonna be another year at least." "Well I ain't driving that thing without you in it," Keagan said, looking over her shoulder back at the car. "What? Why not?" "Because I'm black, Lexi, the cops will think I stole it," Keagan said, making Michelle laugh. "Sorry," Michelle said, "Sorry, I just...you're right. Screwed up as it is, you're right." "Well how about, then, I buy new cars for everyone?" Lexi asked, making the table hush up. "...what?" Keagan asked quietly. "I couldn't accept that," Michelle said. "I don't drive," Eliza said softly. Lexi felt her gut plummet. All she'd wanted to do was share the good news she'd gotten that day with the people she cared about, and it was starting to seem like nobody but her was interested in it. She sighed, then stood up and rummaged through her purse for some change. "I'm gonna go get a soda from the machine," she said, vanishing inside the building. Keagan felt bad, but she didn't know what to think. She had known Lexi had come from a lot of money, but she wasn't expecting her to return to that lifestyle so quickly or so eagerly. Now she felt the gap between them widen all the more. Yes, she liked Lexi, perhaps even loved her, but that class difference was really starting to be hammered home. After all, Keagan had once told Michelle that "Lexi could get any job she wants, while I only have the job I have because I know you and Bea", and now with this new car, it was beginning to set in just how different they really were. Michelle suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around to see Beatrice standing there. She wasn't even in costume, just an old fashioned dress and a cardigan. Michelle smiled as she looked up at her, and Bea nodded. "I need to speak with you," she said, and Michelle excused herself. As the two of them started to walk down the backlot of the studio, Michelle could tell Bea was rattled by something. "What's going on?" Michelle asked. "I just haven't been sleeping well these last few weeks," she said, "Liam and I are trying to make this all financially feasible, but we're running out of money, and the network won't give us anymore, and...and then with what happened...I don't know, Michelle, please tell me that what we're doing here isn't a giant legacy tarnishing mistake." "It isn't, it's gonna be great," Michelle said, coughing a little before adding, "and I'll do anything I can to help, Bea, you know that. If you need to save money on sets, I'll design more myself. You know I can." Bea smirked. She did know that Michelle could do anything she set her mind to, and she did know that with her by her side, everything would be fine. But the guilt over what had happened to those former crew members was eating away at Beatrice internally, and she was scared to share that with even those closest to her. She sighed and looked out at the studio buildings. "I used to do plays," Beatrice said, "that's how this all started. Beatrice was nothing but a one woman play. A small stage production. Now look at it. Does something lose its charm when its given more money, more room to explore? Or does the charm grow with the program? I don't know. I just know that the first time Liam and I showed up to the network back in the day, I was so nervous. I didn't come a city, Michelle, I grew up on a small piece of farmland somewhat removed from the city, and I wasn't a very social child." "Hey, neither was I, being stuck in hospital beds and all," Michelle said, nudging Bea with her elbow, making her chuckle. "But," Bea continued, "...I just can't help but feel like I'm walking down the same kind of path again. What seems like a great experience starting out will only in the end leave me bitter and hostile...and alone." "You'll never be alone again, Bea," Michelle said, hugging her, "I'll make sure of that." "You know, I've been doing a lot of reading online these days, and one of the things people really talk against are parasocial relationships," Beatrice said, "people who think they're friends with famous people or influencers or whomever, but in reality they're not. They misjudge and misevaluate these relationships so gravely that it often leaves them feeling genuinely wounded when something terrible happens, like they've lost a family member. I don't want us to have that kind of relationship." "I don't think we do," Michelle said, "In the first place, I prefer parasocial relationships. Much less expectation put on me to be the best me I can be. I'm not there to prove anything to anyone. That's how I know what we have isn't one, because I AM trying to prove myself to you all the time." Beatrice took Michelle's hand and patted it gently. "You're a good kid," she said, "but if I ever start to take advantage of you, please, stop me." "Will do," Michelle said. *** "It's like...we're just two different people, you know?" Keagan said, "When we both worked fast food, we were of the same stock. We both had come from different places, sure, but now we were more or less equal in societies eyes. Nothing but burger flippers. But now, with her having access to her money again, I don't know...I feel like she's not the same person I knew." "People shouldn't remain the same," Eliza said as she dipped her brush in some red paint and started applying it to the puppet she was toying with, "people should never be the person you once knew. People should always grow." "I mean, yeah, and I don't want her to not grow because of me, or whatever, but...I don't know," Keagan said, leaning against a workbench and sighing. Eliza turned in her chair, setting the puppet on the towel in her lap and looked at Keagan. "I've never dated," Eliza said, "So I don't...like...really understand how relationships work. The only people I've ever really been associated with are Bea and my parents and Liam, but...shouldn't you be happy for her? She's happy, right?" "Yeah she's happy, and yeah I want her to be happy and yeah I'm happy for her, but it just feels like the difference between is growing ever wider," Keagan said, "You don't get it, you're not black. There's different rules in society for me then there are for pretty privileged rich white women like her." "But she's gay too, right?" Eliza asked. "I mean, yeah, we're together." "So she isn't perfect, at least, uh, not in societies eyes. I mean, that came out wrong, um...oh I'm stupid." "No, you're not stupid, I know what you mean," Keagan said, smiling, "And I guess you're right, in the sense we're both minorities. But even that's a different kind of minority. The queer community still is eons ahead of the black community, despite us fighting for longer amounts of time for equality. And I know that makes me sound bitter, but I'm not, I'm...I'm happy about that in many regards but...ugh, it's all so complicated." "It doesn't have to be," Eliza said, "...I like puppets. Puppets are exactly what they're made to be. Nothing is misrepresented. There's no hidden truths. See this Armadillo? He's an Armadillo. He's never going to be anything other than an Armadillo. Even if I give him a tuxedo and a limo, he's still going to an Armadillo. Just...a fancier one. That's how people should be. They're just people, and everything else is just a facet that makes up their whole." Keagan was surprised. She'd known Eliza was damaged mentally, and yet here she was, proving she was in fact the smartest one of all, even when it came to a topic she herself admittedly had no experience within; relationships. "...I guess you're right," Keagan said. "We should all be Armadillos," Eliza said, making Keagan laugh. "We should," she agreed. *** Lexi was lying on the couch, eating food from a take out box in her pajamas, watching a Hockey game, when the front door opened and Keagan came inside. She tossed her jacket and her purse down on the floor and walked around to the couch, seating herself on it as Lexi sat up and put the food container down on the coffee table in front of them. "Where's Michelle?" "She and Bea and Liam and Eliza went out to dinner together. I had to come home and talk to you," Keagan said. "Okay, what's going on?" Lexi asked, pulling her knees to her chest, feeling nervous. "...I'm sorry," Keagan said, "I'm sorry that I was kind of...a bitch earlier, I guess, and I'm sorry that I am letting your parents wealth influence my opinions about us as a couple. I just was...so afraid to...I guess, lose you? I don't know, you're the first girl I've ever really had a relationship with, and this is all kinda new to me, and I just didn't feel like...I felt like before you had the money, we were kinda the same. We were both kinda broke, we both worked at a shitty job, and we liked one another." Lexi smiled. "But then," Keagan continued, "you got this money and...suddenly I saw you for who you actually were, before you met me, and it scared me. I think success in general scares me, because my family has always just scraped by, you know? I mean, we weren't poor or anything, but my parents worked multiple jobs to keep us fed and housed and clothed, and we were always treated poorly by rich uppity white people, but having been with you, I know that's not what you are. You're not that kind of person, money or otherwise." "I'm really not," Lexi said, giggling. "I'm sorry, Lexi. Lately I've been feeling really apart from us as a whole and it's bummed me out and it wasn't until I talked to Eliza that I realized that the one thing we have in common is what's most important...we love one another, and that's what we should focus on." Lexi nodded, leaning in and kissing Keagan. "I have a surprise for you," Lexi whispered, getting up off the couch and running into the other room before coming back, holding a piece of paper as she sat back down. "You got me paper? Wow, how did you know?" Keagan said, laughing, making Lexi roll her eyes. "You need to sign this," Lexi said, "...it's a document that cuts what I got in half, and gives half to you." "...what?" Keagan asked, taking the paper and looking at it, then looking back up at Lexi. "Yeah," Lexi said, "You wanna be equals? Let's be equals. It's not my fuckin' money anyway, and all it ever brought my father was bad luck, so let's share the wealth, shall we?" "No, this is, you've gotta be-" "Sign it," Lexi said, "Sign it and then kiss me again. I liked that." Keagan blushed, then took the pen from Lexi's hands and signed it. She looked at the paper, then looked back at Lexi. "Wow, that's a lot of money made in a matter of seconds. Now I feel like I'm in show business," Keagan said, the both of them laughing as they laid together on the couch for the rest of the evening. When Michelle got home, she found them asleep, and instead of waking them, she simply laid a big quilt over the two of them and then went to bed. *** Beatrice woke that night in her darkened bedroom, hearing the rain tap at her window. She struggled to climb out of the bed, put her robe on and head into the living room. She walked to the kitchenette, got herself a glass of water from the sink and drank it in one swift gulp before heading back to the bedroom. As she stepped into the living room again she screamed and dropped the glass on the floor, where it shattered, as she looked at a Beagle sitting on the couch, reading a book. "...Beatrice?" she asked. "Amelia," Beatrice said, looking up from the book. "...what are you doing here?" she asked, approaching the couch cautiously. "You don't have to be careful, I never bit," Beatrice said, "Sit with me." Amelia nodded and sat beside Beatrice on the couch. Beatrice licked her cheek and Amelia started to cry as she pushed her face into the beagles furry neck. "It's okay," Beatrice said, "you cry all you need. I'm here." And then Beatrice woke up. Still in bed. Sweating profusely. She could've sworn her dog was here. She could've sworn that she was holding her best friend. She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw up. Instead she got up from the bed, walked into the living room and picked up the phone, dialing a number before sitting on the couch. It rang a few times before a woman answered. "Hello?" she asked, sounding half asleep. "Mom, it's Amelia," Beatrice said, "...I need to come home."
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All it took was a split second.
The rehearsal was about to start, the set was more or less set up, and Beatrice was waiting to put the head of her costume on, sitting on the edge of the stage, when Michelle sat beside her. Beatrice looked up from the script in her big costumed paw hands and smiled at Michelle, who smiled back. "This is exciting," Michelle said, "I'm excited anyway. I've never been a part of anything like this." "You didn't do theatre in school or anything?" Bea asked. "No, I always wanted to, but my breathing kind of kept me locked off from a lot of the extracurricular activities I wanted to participate in," Michelle said, glancing over her shoulder at the stage behind them, adding, "that's why this is such a big deal to me." "Well, I'm glad to be able to give you that experience then," Bea said. And that was when they heard it. The snap. All it took was a split second. A split second of unawareness. Someone shouted as a young grip leaped out of the way as one of the stage lights overhead came crashing down, just missing hitting her head. As she rolled over onto her back, Beatrice stood up and raced over to her, kneeling down. "Are you alright?" she asked, and the woman nodded hesitantly, unaware of how she was meant to respond. "I...I just...I heard something snapping and...and I saw someone waving at me to move and I jumped," she said, pushing some errant strands of black hair out of her eyes and adding as she looked up at Bea, who was cradling her head in her lap, "All I knew was the universal signal for 'move out of the way fast', so that's what I did." Bea laughed and nodded, "Well, thank goodness you at least managed to dodge it. I'll go have a talk with the stage hands and see why this happened." Bea looked at Michelle as she approached them and whispered to her as she passed by. "Take her to the first aid station please, I'm going up to the lighting catwalk," Beatrice said. Michelle did as she was told and helped the young woman up, taking her away into the halls, towards the first aid station as Beatrice strode to the ladder that led up to the catwalk where the lighting was rigged. As she began climbing, she heard footsteps on the ladder behind her, and looked over her shoulder briefly to see Eliza coming up behind her. "Did you need something sweetheart?" Bea asked. "No, just following," Eliza said, making Bea smile a little. As the women reached the catwalk, they spotted a young man with short scruffy brown hair and a dirty beard shadow, wearing a salmon colored button down shirt and light brown pants, approach them, already apologizing profusely with his face alone. "I am so so sorry," he said, "It was a total accident, it just wasn't attached properly and I realized too late and I-" "What's your name?" Bea asked. "His name is Simon," Eliza said, surprising Simon, who looked at her confused. "How did you-" "She knows everyones name," Bea answered, "Simon, listen to me, okay? You're right. It was an accident, and accidents happen, and thankfully nobody was hurt. I like to think that's because I've cultivated a crew that looks out for one another. Why don't you take the rest of the day off and come back in tomorrow, okay? We have more than enough people who can set up these lights. Just take it easy, maybe go see the girl you almost squished and tell her how sorry you are." "Yeah, okay, sure, I'm...okay," Simon said, clearly frazzled as he walked towards the ladder to head back down. As soon as he was out of earshot, Bea looked at Eliza and shook her head. "I can't fire him," Bea said, "I'm not that kind of person. That'll be up to someone else if they so chose to do that, but it can't be me...can you do me a favor? Can you go with him to see that girl, and if you see Michelle please bring her back to me. She and I need to talk to Stephanie about what's happened." "Yes, okay, I can do that," Eliza said, hurrying to the ladder and heading down, following Simon quickly. They reached the first aid station in no time flat, just as Michelle was exiting the room. "She's in there," Michelle said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at the door, "if you wanna-" "Yeah, thank you," Simon said, hurrying past her, trying not to be rude. Michelle cleared her throat and looked at Eliza, who was chewing on the end of her braid, trying not to laugh. "What?" Michelle asked, smirking. "It's like, one of those things, you know, where people meet in a cute way and then they tell their kids the story," Eliza said, giggling. "Right, 'hey kids, wanna hear about how I almost beaned your mom in the brain with a piece of lighting equipment? it's SUPER romantic'," Michelle said, the both of them breaking out in laughter now; after a moment, Michelle asked, "Since production is probably halted for a bit, do you wanna go get coffee or something?" "Bea said she needs you, that, uh, you and she need to talk to Stephanie," Eliza said, "but...I guess it could wait a little bit." *** "What do you mean someone almost died?" Leslie asked, sitting on her office phone back at the public broadcasting station, "Like, you personally, or you inadvertently? Second hand murder or something?" "There was an accident on set before rehearsal," Bea said into the phone in her and Michelle's office, still partially in costume, sitting on the desk, "a young woman almost got her head crushed by a light that fell from the ceiling." "Jesus," Leslie said, "That's terrifying." "I need to make sure that nobody on this crew ever comes to harm, okay?" Bea asked, "I'm gonna talk to Steph in a bit when Michelle gets back to me, but I think we need to have a safety inspector or something. Far too much bullshit happened on the last set, and I...I refuse to allow anyone to work like that again. I refuse." "Alright, well, if that's your call then so be it," Leslie said, chewing on the cap of the end of the pen in her hand, "but, uh...well, just don't push it. She's already being lenient enough with you guys as it is, so. If you need me to come in, be the big guns, just lemme know." Bea smirked at this and said, "Yeah, I'll let you know if you should come and flex your muscles." "The ladies can be quite persuasive," Leslie said, the both of them laughing now. *** "What was it like, you know, working with Bea before?" Michelle asked, her hands cupping her styrofoam coffee cup on the table by the window as Eliza sipped hers cautiously. "It was...neat," Eliza said, "She gave me my own space, and she...she told me that I could create whatever I wanted to, you know, in the downtime. She gave me a lot of creative freedom. No other job has ever done that, at least not, uh, to the same degree that she has." "She's pretty supportive, it's true," Michelle said. "How did you meet her?" "A friend and I tracked her down after some research and...and once I showed her how I'd rebuilt the set from the show in my basement, she became so much more understanding of just what Beatrice Beagle represented to me. I think she understood that I saw in it the same thing she saw in it. I guess, the same thing a lot of you saw in it. You and Liam and Marvin and everyone." "I never spent much time with anyone besides Bea. Liam was always nice to me, but I...I've never really had a friend before, so thank you for inviting me out," Eliza said, looking into her cup, almost as if she were outright embarrassed of this admittance, adding, "...are you sick too?" "Yeah, I have breathing issues," Michelle said, trying not to get too into depth about her illness, "I sometimes have to have oxygen tanks to help me get through the day. Are you sick? You seem perfectly fine to me." This made Eliza giggle uncontrollably as she looked away. Michelle cocked her head to the side, confused. "What?" she asked. "That's just...the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," Eliza said, which only made Michelle feel all the worse for her. *** It was early when the phone rang. Michelle rolled over, still half asleep, and clutched at the phone beside her bed, pulling it off the base and pushing it to her face. She half mumbled something relatively intelligible, only for the next thing she heard to wake her up almost completely. She sat up in bed and pushed her hair out of her face, staring dead eyed at the wall. "Repeat that please," she said sternly, so Bea did, her voice shaky like she'd been crying. "They're dead," she said, "they're both dead. I need you to come to my apartment now." Michelle didn't have to be asked twice. Upon arriving at the door, Beatrice let her in quick as possible. Her eyes were red, like she'd been crying for hours, and she had a kettle of tea on the stove, whistling, which Michelle immediately raced to recover. As she lifted it from the stove and onto the counter, she looked back at Bea, who huddled back onto the couch, wrapping a blanket around her. "Who's dead?" Michelle asked. "...the girl...the girl from yesterday...and the guy who...the lighting guy," Bea managed to whisper, her voice hoarse, as if she'd been wailing all night, "...they killed themselves." "What happened?" Michelle asked, walking over to the couch and sitting on it fully, putting a hand on Bea's back, massaging it. "They...they met in the...in the first aid of the studio, and they talked about the situation, and she was extremely rattled from almost having died, and he was extremely rattled from almost having killed her, and they...they spent the whole night just...crushing up pills and snorting them in her apartment. I feel sick. This is all my fault. I sent him to speak to her. Maybe if I hadn't done that, they...they wouldn't have-" "No, no Beatrice, this is not your fault, okay? This is just a freak occurrence, alright? Please listen to me," Michelle said, "I...you didn't do this, you didn't do anything wrong, okay?" "I try and cultivate a workplace where people look out for one another, and have eachothers backs and-" "And you know what, they did. She might've done that alone, or he might've done it alone, but instead they did it together. I think, if anything, it was inevitable and all you're really responsible for is giving them each someone else to do it with," Michelle said, uncertain of what she said even as she was saying it, "And I realize that's pretty fucking bleak, but...like...that's...I've been there. I've been on the verge of not being here. Being as sick as I was when I was so young...it changes you. I think I understand how she might've felt. She was probably never going to come back from this." Bea looked at Michelle and bit her lip, trying not to cry anymore. "...the show's on hold for a week. The funeral's in two days if you want to come," Bea said, "...but if you want to get away from this, away from me, I'd understand and-" "I never wanna get away from you," Michelle said softly, "You're the best friend I've ever had. I'll be there. We all will." And then she held her. She held Beatrice for what felt like hours. She got her some tea, and she held her until she fell asleep. Beatrice had always been there for her, and now it was time for Michelle to be there for Beatrice. It only felt fair. *** Standing in the cemetery, after the funeral was over and everyone was headed to a nearby restaurant to calm down from it all, Michelle couldn't help but feel glued to the gravesite. Standing there in the sunlight, bright and warm, she felt so confused about everything. How quickly this whole thing had turned on its head had thrown her, and everyone else, for a loop. She heard the sound of grass beneath shoes coming up behind her, and soon saw Eliza standing beside her, dressed in a black turtleneck and black slacks, clearly the most formal thing she owned for such an occasion. "...this is fucked up," Michelle said. "I think the worst part is the sun," Eliza said, looking upwards to the sky. "Huh? What do you mean?" Michelle asked. "...like...you know how in movies and stuff, funerals always take place during rainy gloomy days. But that's just atmospheric, ya know? And...and that's not real. Funerals happen on sunny days too. They happen on days when...when kindergarten is in session and people get engaged. But it just seems so kind of sick to see the sun on such a sad day. But the universe doesn't care about us. About our sadness. You know? Like...like, uh...like it only matters to us, you know what I mean? We're the only ones who recognize its self imposed importance." Michelle was surprised. Eliza was fairly eloquent for someone she had been told was somewhat challenged intellectually. "...I don't know. Maybe. All I know is that I feel so screwed up now," Michelle said, "and Bea is even worse. She feels responsible, despite how many times I reiterate to her that none of this was her fault at all. I just hope-" "Let's be friends, okay?" Eliza said bluntly, "I...I don't wanna be alone. She didn't wanna be alone. He didn't wanna be alone. You don't wanna be alone, do you?" "No, I don't," Michelle said, shaking her head, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Bea said she cultivates a workplace of togetherness, where people watch out for one another, so let's be friends, and watch out for one another, okay?" Eliza asked, making Michelle nod again, smiling a little now. "...should we go to the wake?" Michelle asked, and Eliza shrugged. "I don't usually eat in front of others. I don't like groups. That's why I stood so far away during the procession," Eliza said, "...do you wanna come back to The Hole with me? I could show you puppets." "That sounds cool, yeah," Michelle said. Together, the women walked to Michelle's car and got in; Eliza later explained how she'd gotten a ride here since she didn't drive, and Michelle was more than happy to give her a ride home. Michelle was happy to have a new friend, especially one who seemed so insistent to be her friend no matter what. Beatrice could tell herself whatever she wanted, but the two women knew the truth. Beatrice was right. She did in fact cultivate a place that fostered togetherness, and bad things even happened in the brightest of places. Nowhere was safe from the pain, no matter how happy it all seemed. *** Liam sat in his armchair of his apartment, looking at the framed photo of himself and Marvin at a restaurant on his birthday. He smiled as he ate a lemon square he'd baked himself that afternoon, instead of going to the funeral. Nobody could blame him, honestly. Liam had had enough death to last him a lifetime. "So how was your day?" he asked the photo, almost as if he expected an answer; he took a bite of the lemon square and nodded, saying, "Yeah, it was pretty shit, wasn't it?" Because Liam understood the one fundamental rule behind life... ...the one thing that even Michelle had understood, that had kept Bea alive in her heart lo those many years... ...you're never gone so long as someone remembers you. Leslie Swann was late for work.
Truth be told, she was late for work most days, but being the network head, she could get away with it. And besides, she often stayed late into the night to make up for it, so she felt nobody had any right to complain about her being late since she wound up making up the hours long after work had ended for everyone else. While they were sitting snugly at home, she was sitting in her office still, trying to find a budget that would work. But today was raining, and Leslie Swann hated rain, and it hadn't started raining until after she'd left the house, meaning she was unprepared for this type of weather because it wasn't just rain, no, it was a goddamned downpour. After spilling her coffee on her shirt, getting honked at by a dictator mom in a minivan with a cheap 4 dollar haircut and the 6 kids she was stuck with because she believed a wife couldn't say no to her husband, Leslie finally pulled up to the building, only to find someone had parked in her spot, despite there being a sign designating it hers. She wanted to scream, but she had more important things to do, and she couldn't waste the energy on that right now. So instead Leslie parked somewhere else, stepped out of the car, and - in her brand new pumps - right into an enormous puddle that went halfway up her leg. Now she screamed. In fact, she did more than scream. She threw a whole ass temper tantrum in the parking lot, and didn't care who saw. Her makeup was running, her hair was a mess from the rain, her coffee was staining into her nicest dress shirt and now she was soggy from a puddle. As she collapsed against the back of her car, she heard shoes approaching her, and looked up to see a woman standing in a dog covered rain slicker, holding an umbrella and smiling at her. "Let me buy you breakfast, screw going in today," Beatrice said, and Leslie, without waiting, flung herself around her old friend and cried. *** "This is very nice of you," Leslie said, sitting at a table in a diner across from Bea as she dabbed at her work shirt to no avail. She pulled her wet hair back and sighed, adding, "I've had a bad week, Bea." "So it isn't just today?" "No, god...it's been an awful week all around. I was thinking today would be maybe alright, and since it's Friday I could go home and then relax and enjoy myself for a few days and then..." "Isn't Friday casual clothes day?" Bea asked, sipping her cocoa, and Leslie sighed, leaning back into the vinyl diner booth. "Yes, but I don't like wearing my civilian clothes to the office," she said, making Beatrice laugh. "Your civilian clothes? Leslie, you work in public broadcasting, not the federal bureau of investigation," she said, trying not to laugh, which only made Leslie start to chuckle herself. "I wanna set a good example, you know? I mean, I don't care if other people wear theirs on casual day, but...I feel like a leader should be well dressed, maintain order, without being a dictator, you know what I mean? How're these people gonna respect me if they see me in my Snoopy pajamas and horse slippers?" "You have horse slippers?" Bea asked, "God, I came just at the right time." "...why were you waiting for me?" Leslie asked, now raising an eyebrow as their waitress set down stacks of pancakes for them. "I need your help, Leslie," Bea said, "The show's coming back, we're already well into pre-production, but...this network head, she and I don't see exactly eye to eye, and I need you to come in and back me up on some things. I wanna hire you." "What kind of credit would it be?" Leslie asked, slicing off a hunk of pancake and dabbing it in syrup before eating it. "Executive Producer," Bea said, "plus, the public broadcasting station will get first airing rights on the new episodes after they've been on the streaming service for a year. Not only will it boost your network, but it puts more eyes on the product." "You sound like you've been sitting in with tech heads," Leslie said, "It's not a good sound." "Believe me, I don't like it either," Bea said, making Leslie smile again. *** Michelle had been having that dream again. The one where she was still 7 years old, and her mother had put her into an art class during the summer because she so badly wanted her daughter to be like her. Michelle had stayed inside during break one afternoon, to finish a drawing, and she'd started having trouble breathing. It became so bad that she started stumbling around the room, looking for the front door, and instead bumping into everything in sight. Paint cans spilled, everyones hard work ruined, and herself covered in colors. When she finally made it out, her teacher immediately called an ambulance. Her peers were even more worried about her than about their now ruined work (they were only children, after all), but her mother... "It's okay," she'd said on the way to the hospital, "Every artist has setbacks." Michelle woke that morning with a terrible headache. As she walked to the kitchen, she found Keagan sitting by herself at the table, reading a book and eating toast. Michelle seated herself across from her after finding some painkillers and popping them. Keagan looked up at her and smiled. "Where's Lexi?" Michelle asked. "At her parents," Keagan said. "Is everything okay?" "Yeah, she just went to help her mom do some things," Keagan said, "...can I ask you a question, Shell?" "Yeah, of course," Michelle said. "...do you think Lexi and I make sense?" Keagan asked. "I don't have a whole lot of relationship experience, so maybe I'm not exactly the best person to give advice on this sort of thing, but...she seems to really like you, and I think that's pretty important in a relationship. I don't mean just, like, enjoy being in a relationship, either. I mean she genuinely likes just being around you, and I think if you can find one person in the world who you can genuinely like being around, then...you know...yeah, I think that's good." "She's just so prim and proper, she's from such an upper class family, she's so..." "White?" "Okay, sure, yeah. I didn't wanna say it." "So what? You're not from 'the hood' or something, Keagan. And even if you were, who cares? Isn't the whole appeal of Romeo and Juliet the fact that they come from different classes of society and yet they manage to find undying love for one another?" "Not sure 'undying' is the right word to use in this context in regards to that story, but okay," Keagan said, making Michelle snicker, "...no, you're right, and I know you're right. I guess I just let other peoples judgements make me judge us. You sound pretty knowledgeable about this sort of stuff, why haven't you been in many relationships?" "Uh, I don't...know." "Are you gay too?" "I don't think so. I mean, I've found girls pretty, but I also like guys, probably moreso honestly, but...it's all aesthetics for me, you know what I mean? Like...it's all visual, and it doesn't elicit any kind of response other than awe or...or admiration. There's no...uh...I don't know how to put it." "You don't wanna sleep with anyone?" "I guess, yeah, I don't really feel sexual attraction," Michelle said, "I guess I've never really openly said that." Keagan smiled and reached across the table, touching her hand, "I'm glad you did, because I think it helps us understand one another more. You know, at first I was worried living together with people I barely knew would be okay, but...I guess there's a reason we all get along after all, outside of our love for media." Just then the phone rang, and Keagan, sitting beside the landline on the wall, reached up and picked it off the hook, putting the receiver to her ear. "Hello?" she asked, before handing the phone to Michelle, whispering, "I think it's Liam." Michelle furrowed her brow. Why would Liam be calling her? She cautiously took the phone and put it to her ear. "Liam?" she asked, "...oh, okay, I'll be right there." "Something going on?" Keagan asked, and Michelle looked at her. "Can I borrow your truck?" she asked. *** Liam had given her the address, but even when Michelle reached it, she was surprised at how out of the way and sort of dingy it was. Sure, it was a storage facility, but even then, she was surprised someone who'd worked in television would put their belongings in someplace like this. She pulled up to see Liam opening the gate from the keypad for her, and then drove through until she parked. She climbed out of the truck and rushed under the awning, Liam approaching her with a duck umbrella. "I like you umbrella!" she stated happily, making him smile. "It is cute, isn't it?" he asked, "Sorry to ask you to help me with this, but I couldn't get a hold of Bea. She's busy." "It's okay, I don't mind. We're coworkers now, right?" she asked, smirking, hitting him playfully in the shoulder. Together the two of them headed inside and to the elevator, where they stepped inside. As the doors shut, Liam punched in the floor he wanted to ascend to, and then looked at his shoes. "You can't tell Bea I brought you here, okay?" "But...but you were gonna invite her first, so what's it matter if-" "Because nobody besides us knows about this place," Liam said, sounding deadly serious. Michelle kept quiet until the elevator stopped and they both stepped out. The lighting overhead was soft, pleasant, and the sound of their shoes clacking on the hard floor beneath them as they strolled down the empty hall made Michelle feel a bit calmer. After a few minutes, they finally reached a unit and Liam fished a pair of keys out of his pocket, shoving one into the lock, and the second into a second lock. He then pulled the lock off, and started to bend over to pull the door open, but quickly retracted this stance, putting his hand on his back. "Would you?" he groaned, as Michelle nodded and bent down, pulling the door open. What was inside was boxes, furniture, and other odds and ends. Michelle was confused. She expected something amazing, something spectacular, not something so...mundane. "Uh, this is just stuff," Michelle said. "It's Marvin's stuff," Liam said, entering the unit and running his hand up and down a beautiful rolled up rug, "...or, it was Marvin's stuff. It's mine now. But there's one box in here in particular that I'm looking for. It's big and dark green and plastic, it should be labeled BBC." "British Broadcasting Corporation?" Michelle asked, making Liam laugh. "Beatrice Beagle Costumes," he said, "How he wound up with it is beyond me, but he told me one of the last times we spoke that he had it stored in his unit, which he left me directions and the key to after he...well, you know." "Is that it?" Michelle asked, pointing to a box in the dark corner, underneath a few other boxes. She helped Liam move the other boxes, before she bent down and pulled the other box out and together they knelt to the floor and Liam lifted the lid. Michelle couldn't believe her eyes. Inside was Marvin's costume, and costumes to numerous other human characters who showed up on the series - like Bea's veterinarian Veronica and her dog trainer Theresa - which Michelle immediately wanted to touch. "This is amazing," Michelle whispered, making Liam smile. "Indeed," he said, "I figured we needed to pull these out for the show when it starts shooting soon, so I wanted to ask Bea to come, but I figured...well, this wouldn't even be happening without you, so you should know where this stuff is." "...what was Marvin like? I mean, as a person?" Michelle asked, and Liam sat down in a nearby rocking chair, running his thumb over the wooden head of his duck umbrella, smiling warmly. "He was such a great guy. So much fun, so smart, so caring. Most of the people Bea recruited were very empathetic folks, hence doing a childrens show, and Marvin and I really understood one another...once the show ended, we were still..." He paused and bit his lip, either trying not to cry or trying to choose his words carefully. "...I miss him so much every day and I just wish he'd reached out to me instead of killing himself," he whispered, tears starting to roll down his face, as Michelle crawled over to him and put her arms around him, hugging him tight, and him hugging her back, somewhat surprisingly. "...this morning, Keagan and I were talking about sexuality, and how, even though I'm not exactly queer, the fact that I differ from 'the norm' makes why we became such good friends make a lot more sense, because she's gay, and you're gay, and...I guess it's nice to find a community, even if it is one often steeped in loss," Michelle said, "...but it doesn't have to be loss, right? Because, look, he isn't gone. He's still here, in a way." "He always will be, not just in this unit, but in my heart," Liam said, which made Michelle almost weep at how sweet this was. She might not feel sexual attraction, but she certainly understood the concept of undying love. *** Eliza was pacing nervously outside Stephanie's office door, chewing at her fingernails, as Bea and Leslie were inside, talking to Steph. Eliza had been told to wait, but she didn't understand why, and the waiting was beginning to drive her nuts. "You're treating the show as a commodity," Leslie said, sitting across from Steph, "but the thing is, art isn't a commodity. It's a creation. To treat it as anything else is to cheapen it. There's nothing inherently wrong with making money from art, but to see it as nothing other than pure financial net gain...that's where it loses something special, and people notice." "So you're suggesting we don't push the advertising right off the bat?" Steph asked, and Leslie shook her head. "No, I'm suggesting you don't advertise it at all. I mean, sure, commercials, print ads, whatever is fine, but the minute you start churning out toys, dolls, etc, that's when people start to see it as not something personal or special but as just another thing to entice children. That's where you lose respect." Steph sighed and ran her hands through her hair. She should've known Beatrice would find a way to throw a wrench in her longterm advertising plans. Suddenly, Bea stood up and walked to the door, opened it and pulled Eliza in gently by the arm. "This is my puppet maker, Eliza. She worked with me on the original show," Bea said, "Eliza, please, show Stephanie why making money off something cheapens it." Eliza nodded, then put a dog hand puppet on her arm before kneeling down in front of the desk, hiding herself. She popped the puppet up in front of Stephanie, and Stephanie smirked, unsure of where exactly this was going, but curious to see certainly. "My name is Brisket!" Eliza said in a high pitched voice, "Right now I'm your friend, and that makes you feel good doesn't it?" "I...suppose," Stephanie said, trying not to laugh. "You need to put yourself in the mind of a child watching the show," Bea said, and Steph nodded, trying to do just that as Bea added, "Go on Brisket." "Right now you know I'm here for you, to listen and to help, and make you not feel so alone, and that's a good feeling isn't it? Because the world is big and scary and it's easy to feel overwhelmed," Eliza continued as the puppet, "but then you see another kid, maybe even a kid who bullies you every day, with a backpack with me on it, and that makes you sad doesn't it? It makes you not trust me anymore, and then you will have a hard time trusting anyone, all because little ol' me was also friends with your bully. That doesn't feel good, does it?" Steph's eyes widened, and she looked from the puppet back up at Bea. "Do you get it now?" Bea asked, and Steph glanced to Leslie, who cleared her throat and patted Eliza's head, telling her she could get off the floor, as she leaned forward and crossed her legs. "Children aren't stupid. They aren't reliable gullible consumers. They can tell when they're being sold to, likely moreso than any adult can," Leslie said, "You go down that route, you lose that connection, and soon you won't be any different from any other show. Being on a streaming service, along with the addition to be beamed into every home thanks to my public broadcasting network license, means you're gonna have more eyeballs than anyone else right off the bat, and your show will be more accessible than any other kids show. You tell a child they're special, then sell the very thing that makes them feel special to other children, all you're doing is giving them lifelong relationship issues." Steph nodded as Eliza stood up and pushed her glasses up on her face, hugging Brisket to her chest. "I think I get it," Steph said softly, actually meaning it. As Eliza left the room, she bumped into Michelle, who was hauling the green plastic box down towards the costuming room. Both women immediately apologized to one another, and Michelle smiled at the puppet on Eliza's hand. "That's cute," Michelle said, and Eliza held Brisket back up, putting the voice back on. "Thanks! I am pretty cute!" she said, making Michelle laugh before she continued on her way. The door opened, and Bea and Leslie stepped out into the hall. Bea put her hand on Eliza's back and rubbed it gently. "You did great, kiddo," she said, "Go back to The Hole. I'll have your lunch delivered, okay?" Eliza nodded and headed along her way, as Bea turned to Leslie. "Thank you," Bea said, "I knew you could make this work." "I'd do anything for you Bea," Leslie said, "...thanks for including me. I should probably get to the office now, though," she added, checking her watch. Leslie and Bea hugged, then Bea stood and watched Leslie Swann walk off towards the parking lot. Bea stood there and smiled to herself, not knowing Leslie was smiling to herself. Leslie had had a bad week, but once again, all it took to make her week better was the dog. All it ever took was the dog. Mans best friend, as they said. Leslie reached her car, let herself in and started it up. Being with Bea again as a team made her feel so good inside, that now she couldn't go to work in a bad mood. Leslie Swann was still late for work. But this time it was worth it. |
About
Beatrice Beagle follows a young woman obsessed with a defunct pizzeria and kids show featuring a dog mascot. As she uncovers more about its mysterious past, she becomes sucked into the life of the woman who played the mascot, they both discover just how much they need eachother. Archives
April 2024
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